I went to dinner at D and B on Friday, them who are the parents of the delicious Maya, who turned three, two weeks ago. I sat in the kitchen, at the kitchen table with Maya while D made salads and Maya 'mixed' the salad dressing. This entailed me holding the bowl, D adding each ingredient one-by-one, Maya stirring after each addition and then dipping her finger into the dressing and proudly proffering said finger for me to taste.
I can now tell you what changes salad dressing goes through on addition of each ingredient. I won't go into detail, other than to say it's best to wait until they're all in, and then taste. After we'd finished 'cooking' and tasted the dressing about twenty-three times, this conversation ensued:
Maya: There's a lion in Zeida's bed. (They're Jewish, Zeida = Grandpa - B's dad is living with them at the moment)
Shiny: There is? Do you think you should warn Zeida?
Maya: No, it's okay, the crocodile's fixed it.
Shiny: Oh, right, phew. How did he fix it?
Maya: He put him in a box. And then strapped the box up.
Shiny: Thank goodness for the strapping.
Maya: Yes, and then he put the box in the cupboard. And then he strapped the cupboard.
Shiny: Wow, what a clever crocodile. But, Maya, where's the crocodile now? I'm a bit scared.
Maya: Don't worry, the crocodile's gone back to the pool.
Shiny: Oh, of course, yes.
She then went off to bed in her sweet pink pyjamas that are getting too small, and we had dinner. I swear though, when I looked down the passage to the glass back door that leads out to the pool, I saw two glinting red crocodilian eyes.
Maybe it was just the Shabbat wine?
16 hours ago